


A Holiday From a Galaxy Far Far Away

by Mayhem21



Series: Representation Universe [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Star Wars - Freeform, Star Wars: The Holiday Special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:58:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5477204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayhem21/pseuds/Mayhem21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred and Tony sit down to watch "Star Wars: The Holiday Special". Can be read as part of the Representation Universe or as a stand-alone work. Warning: Star Wars: The Holiday Special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Holiday From a Galaxy Far Far Away

_November 17, 1978_

Bounding into the living room, arms loaded with food, Alfred hurried over to the coffee table as excitement raced through him.

“Tony! Hurry! It’s starting soon!” he called out over a shoulder. A giggle slipped out. He couldn’t wait! 

Quickly unloading the heap of salty chips, sweet snack cakes, and a single small plate of sad looking sandwiches onto the narrow table, he ran back to the kitchen and grabbed the cans of the new Rondo soda Coca-Cola had started testing. He’d been in the car for hours driving to and from Kansas City to get some but man had it been worth it!

Feet sliding on the shag carpet, Alfred ran back into the living room and crouched in front of the television, reaching out to turn the silver set to CBS. He then palmed the red Record button on one of his two Betamax players. Tony had rigged up a special clock that would automatically start the recording on the second player, ensuring that he would forever have a recording of the entire program.

As commercials played, he scrambled back and hurried over to the orange and yellow plaid sofa. He absently picked up the Star Wars pillow sitting on the floor and clutched it to his chest, eyes glued to the television set.

“ _Because of the special program, **Wonder Woman** and **The Incredible Hulk** will not be presented this evening_ ,” the television intoned, images of Wonder Woman and then the snarling face of the Hulk flashing across the screen. Unnoticed by Alfred, Tony settled into a recliner chair with matching plaid upholstery, the CBS “Special Presentation” logo dancing on the screen.

The screen went black. Alfred caught his breath. 

Then-

The Millennium Falcon flew past, Han Solo and Chewbacca frantically working the controls inside.

“Yay,” Alfred breathed, eyes glowing as he clutched his pillow tighter. **Star Wars**. He loved it. Loved it loved it loved loved it. He’d gone into see it on a whim when it had come out the year before, curious what this new space-themed movie would be all about.

As the ticket seller and then concession vendor solemnly wished him “May the Force be with you,” a chill had gone up his spine. And then, sitting by himself in that dark theater, the greatest movie experience of his life had begun. 

The sound of the lasers and the rousing orchestral theme had been electrifying.

The sight of that endless Star Destroyer crossing over head had been awe-inspiring.

And the characters. Oh, those amazing characters. The fierce determination and beauty of Princess Leia. The sweet innocence and naivety of Luke Skywalker. The dashing, rogue-ish Han Solo. 

Alfred was in love.

He’d smuggled Tony into a theater to share the magic that was **Star Wars** two weeks later. The diminutive alien had been dismissive of the effects, the spaceships, the combat, and other technical details. But that hadn’t stopped him from insisting they go just one more time so he could check a few more details.

They’d ended up going together to see it over a dozen times.

The next year, in August, Lucasfilm announced a sequel: **Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back** with the expected premier in 1980.

Happily, they wouldn’t have to wait two more years for more **Star Wars**. CBS had something new, a holiday special. 

It was going to be two glorious hours of nothing but **Star Wars**.

“Looks kinda funny,” Tony commented as the Millennium Falcon jumped to lightspeed and the title card appeared.

“It’s on TV.” Alfred sniffed. “It’s not gunna look as pretty as it does in a movie theater.” He tilted his head as characters and special guests flashed across the screen. “Huh, looks like a variety show,” he mused. “That’s kinda . . .” his voice trailed off. Variety shows had just been so boring lately.

After several minutes of roaring Wookies, Tony looked over at Alfred. “What the fuck are these things saying?”

“Uh, I dunno.” An uneasy feeling was creeping up on the personification. “I’m- they’re- I guess it’s Chewbacca’s family?”

Tony looked back at the screen, then leaned over and grabbed one of the cans of Rondo. Popping the cap, he leaned back in his chair. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” the alien muttered.

“It’s, it’s Star Wars,” Alfred protested. Acrobats began to dance on the screen as one of the Wookies manipulated the controls on a small table. “ **Star Wars** can’t be bad. . . right?” 

The pair sat, unable to tear their eyes away from the spectacle in front of them. The acrobats tumbled and juggled, cavorting across the table while the smallest Wookie grunted and chuckled at them.

After several long, long minutes, the routine ended. 

“It’s a fucking miracle,” Tony muttered. He took a long drink from the citrus flavored beverage clutched in on spindly hand.

“Look, it’s Luke” Alfred exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the screen. “Now things will get going! It just took them a while, that’s all,” he reassured the alien. “Hey, I was right, it’s Chewie’s family!” he added as the young pilot talked with the tall, brown furred Wookie - Malla, they had learned.

“Big whoop,” Tony grunted, scrunching further into his chair. “The hell did they do to him?” he demanded indignantly. “He looks like he fell in a bucket of bleach. And those eyes.” Grey shoulders shuddered.

“Just, uh, bad make-up,” Alfred retorted. He winced slightly as the starfighter began to smoke and his hero disappeared from the screen. “TV, remember? Their budget is a lot smaller,” he added.

\----------------------------------------------------  
_Twenty minutes in_

Following a brief appearance by Darth Vader, the first commercial break arrived. As the General Motors ad played, Alfred slowly stood and stretched, feeling quite unsettled. He was sure the show would pick up from here on out. **Star Wars** was the most amazing thing ever. They were even going to do a sequel! The Holiday Special, he reassured himself as he twisted back and forth a few times, was just getting off to a slow start.

He continued to stretch through the next commercial and then settled back down on the couch, arms resting on his knees and hands dangling in front of him. 

“ _Stir, whip, stir whip whip whip whip, stir whip, stir whip whip whip, stir_.” 

“Harvey, what are you doing?” Alfred couldn’t help but cringe minutes later as the award winning actor began a cooking segment, looking like a bizarre cross between Cinderella’s evil step mother and Rosie the Robot. Harvey Korman was better than this . . . this . . . why were they watching a full length cooking segment?!

“Shit, finally!” Tony yelled. He threw a crumpled up napkin at the television set as the scene abruptly switched from Malla’s bantha stew to the dark expanse of space. TIE fighters screamed across the screen, still chasing after Han and Chewie. “Now we’re getting somewh-”

The screen cut back to the Wookie family.

“- . . . the fuck?”

\----------------------------------------------------  
_30 minutes in_

Alfred buried his face in his pillow, whimpering audibly. He let out a sudden strangled gasp and quickly reversed the pillow, hiding the faces of the Star Wars cast from the on-screen action.

“It’s porn,” he moaned, hiding his face again, cheeks burning bright red. “Why is there porn in **Star Wars**? Why are they showing this on TV?”

“Baby,” Tony teased. “It’s not even hardcore stuff.”

\----------------------------------------------------  
_50 minutes in_

“Jefferson Spaceship. Really?”

“I know, the holograms are terrible,” Tony commented. Alfred blinked, then turned to stare at Tony. The alien looked back. “I’m just saying. Case that size, you should be able to get some fine looking holos. Not that crap.”

\----------------------------------------------------  
_One hour in_

“Hey, this isn’t all that bad.” Perking up, the personification leaned forward, stunned at the sudden explosion of plot and action as the cartoon segment continued to play. “This Boba Fett guy is kinda cool. Even if he did betray Luke.”

“Bet we don’t see him again,” Tony commented in a wistful voice. “Guys that badass could never be really portrayed outside a cartoon.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Alfred watched as Luke and Han flew safely away on the Falcon, Chewie and the droids at their side. “Man, it’d be so cool, though.”

\----------------------------------------------------  
_One hour fifteen minutes in_

“And we’re back to the shit show,” Tony concluded. He sighed and popped another Rondo. A small pile of cans stood next to the chair and Reeses buttercups wrappers littered the floor.

With a soft sigh, Alfred leaned forward the picked up one of the slightly-soggy sandwiches still sitting on the coffee table. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he began to mournfully nibble at the grape flavored snack.

The Imperial officers were still harassing Chewie’s family and Luppy was now following along as Harvey Korman, in another segment, pretended to be a robot, guiding the Wookie child in building a mechanical translation device.

It took several moments for Alfred to realize that the beeping sound wasn’t coming from the television. Blinking sluggishly, he turned his head, tracking the sound. 

Tony had his small feet propped up on his chair while played with one of his fantastical alien devices; the small silvery device clutched in spindly hands emitted a wide variety of beeps and boop sounds. 

Staring longingly at his friend, Alfred fought back the urge to go peer over his shoulder and investigate this new wonderous device. The many strange devices his friend used day-to-day were a source of great fascination, a source of inspiration and hope for what amazing things his people would eventually produce. 

But he was committed. Determined, Alfred turned away from Tony and looked back at the TV, just in time to see Korman dropping down out of the frame. Picking up his **Star Wars** pillow once again, the personification gave it a determined squeeze as he steeled himself to finish out the Holiday Special. He didn’t know what had gone wrong but he would see this through.

\----------------------------------------------------  
As the closing credits began to roll on the TV, Tony stopped his game and look up. He’d given up on the **Star Wars** special almost an hour earlier and had turned to a favorite handheld game to keep himself entertained until the train-wreck of a show came to an end. 

Tossing the handheld to the floor, he slid out of the cushioned armchair and crossed over to the television set, reaching out with a long hand to turn off the entertainment set. As silence filled the room, Tony turned to look at his human-like friend.

Alfred lay on his side on the couch, arms still locked around the Star Wars brand pillow. His eyes were open but had a dull, glazed look. His glasses had been pushed askew by the couch cushions and one of the lenses looked like it was digging into his face. 

Cautiously, Tony slowly approached the national personification, skirting the coffee table and random piece of trash or forgotten piece food. Once he reached the limp blond, he waved a hand in front of his face. 

No reaction.

Now slightly concerned, Tony reached out again and poked Alfred with a finger. 

Still nothing.

The alien dithered for several long moments, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. If Alfred had been a human, he would have been able to fix him. Probably.

But Alfred wasn’t human. He also the living personification of the United States of America and it was a very real possibility that his current unblinking malaise had an external source. If that was the case, there was nothing to do but wait it out. 

Nodding slightly to himself, Tony raised his hand from where he’d been prodding the personification’s cheek and took hold of the delicate wire framed glasses, carefully tugging them off his face and setting them down on the coffee table.

Alfred was going to need some time to process what he’d just watched and time to separate himself from what must be a nation-wide wave of disappointment and confusion washing over him.


End file.
